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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28917297">Dream Angel</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_in_the_Hella/pseuds/Ghost_in_the_Hella'>Ghost_in_the_Hella</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Life Is Strange (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Chloe talks to the dead, F/F, Ghost Rachel, amberprice, implied major character death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:15:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,777</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28917297</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_in_the_Hella/pseuds/Ghost_in_the_Hella</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“If you’re gonna show up in my dreams, you should at least be naked,” Chloe grumbles, rubbing the crust of sleep from her eyelids. </p><p>“Sorry,” Rachel says, and yes, this definitely has to be a dream because Rachel never apologizes for anything; not to Chloe. “I didn’t realize there was a dress code.”</p><p>---</p><p>"Dead" and "gone" are not necessarily the same thing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rachel Amber/Chloe Price</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Chaos Theory Zine</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dream Angel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>CW for canon typical drugging and kidnapping, non-graphic vomit, underage drinking, drug use (pot), implied major character death (Rachel), referenced gun possession.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>April 22, 2013</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>The first indication Chloe has that she’s dreaming is that she doesn’t feel drunk anymore. If she were awake, she would definitely be either drunk or hungover.</p><p>The second indication is that Rachel’s sitting on her dresser, and she doesn’t look angry at all. With the stream of texts and missed calls that Chloe’d been hounding her with right up until she passed out, fully clothed, on her floor, Rachel should be fuming. She doesn’t let go of a fight that easily. If this were real, if this weren’t a dream, then Rachel would’ve shaken Chloe awake, maybe poured some bong water on her to wake her up. She wouldn’t just be sitting there quietly, staring tenderly at Chloe with sorrow in her hazel eyes. </p><p>The third indication is the raven perched on Rachel’s shoulder.</p><p>“If you’re gonna show up in my dreams, you should at least be naked,” Chloe grumbles, rubbing the crust of sleep from her eyelids. </p><p>“Sorry,” Rachel says, and yes, this definitely has to be a dream because Rachel never apologizes for anything; not to Chloe. “I didn’t realize there was a dress code.”</p><p>“I’m still mad at you, by the way,” Chloe lies. She’s too worried to be mad anymore. Rachel ignoring her calls and texts for an hour or two after a fight is nothing new, but Chloe’s never completely filled Rachel’s voicemail before. “You <em>ditched</em> me.”</p><p>Rachel nods thoughtfully. “I shouldn’t have gone to the party without you.” The raven ruffles its wings. </p><p>“We had <em>plans</em>, and you just--”</p><p>“I know. I know.” Rachel rubs the side of her neck and cringes minutely.</p><p>Chloe sighs and spreadeagles herself on the floor. “So, what’s with the bird? I haven’t dreamed about that thing in ages.”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Rachel admits. “I just sort of… followed it. And then I was here.” She reaches out a tentative finger and strokes the raven’s feathered chest. It lets her. “It’s weird, isn’t it?”</p><p>Chloe shrugs. “I dunno. I guess. Seemed weird to me the first few times, but I got used to it. Honestly, talking to my dad was weirder than his bird friend.” She hasn’t dreamed about her dad in over a year. It feels like a strange sort of betrayal, though she’s not sure if she’s betraying him by not dreaming about him anymore or if he’s betraying her by not showing up in her dreams. </p><p>“I remember you telling me about that,” Rachel says.</p><p>“When you were going through your ‘dream interpretation’ phase,” Chloe agrees.</p><p>Rachel shivers. “I don’t feel like a dream.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, the Disney Princess routine you’re doing with my old dream-raven pal there says otherwise.”</p><p>Rachel looks around, confused. “Where am I?”</p><p>“Uh, my room?”</p><p>“I thought I was someplace else…” Rachel’s brow furrows in thought.</p><p>“You were at the stupid Vortex Club party with your frenemies,” Chloe reminds her helpfully.</p><p>Rachel shakes her head. “No… Someplace else… Chloe, I’m worried. Where <em>am</em> I?”</p><p>Chloe wakes up with a vicious hangover and no messages from Rachel.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>September 28, 2013</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“Wake up.”</p><p>“Nghghmphgm…” Drool smears into whatever Chloe’s lying on. It feels like carpet. She must’ve passed out on her floor. Wouldn’t be the first time this week.</p><p>“I’m not joking around, Price. Wake the fuck up.” Rachel sounds weird. Scared, but Rachel never sounds scared.</p><p>There’s another sound Chloe can’t place. A clicking. Familiar and strange. It’s annoying.</p><p>Chloe tries to say something. Make Rachel stop talking; her head hurts. All that comes out of her mouth is more drool. Gross.</p><p>“Chloe. <em>Please</em>.” Low and urgent, close to Chloe’s ear. Chloe tries to reach for her, but her fingers only twitch around empty air. “You’ve gotta get up, babe. You aren’t safe here.”</p><p>Chloe’s eyelids must weigh about twenty pounds each. She can only drag them open a crack. It doesn’t do much good: she can’t see jack shit. Everything’s blurry and out of focus. She can see somebody moving, though. A pair of shoes.</p><p>She hears the sound of a chair dragging over carpet. The shoes disappear. Another click. A voice muttering, too low to make out words. The voice is vaguely familiar. It makes her head hurt more.</p><p>This isn’t her room. So where is she?</p><p>“Blurghmm…” </p><p>Rachel’s hands tug at her feet. “You don’t have much time, Chloe. Please get up.” She sounds urgent. More urgent than when they’re about to get busted by the cops for doing something stupidly illegal.</p><p>Chloe tries to ask her where she’s been, why she keeps popping up in her dreams, why she’s here now - where here even is - but her tongue is a dead fish in her mouth. “Rrygchell…”</p><p>The clicking stops. “The fuck?” That voice… She <em>knows</em> that voice. She just can’t find the file in her brain right now.</p><p>“Chloe, <em>hurry</em>!”</p><p>Chloe drags her eyes open as wide as she can. The only thing she can see clearly is Rachel’s stricken face.</p><p>“Rrachelll…”</p><p>“What’d you say, bitch?” There’s a thump that shakes the floor under Chloe’s body. She can see those shoes again. Even out of focus, she can tell that they’re expensive.</p><p>Through a haze of jasmine, Chloe can suddenly smell it: cologne, pricey and pretentious, worn too heavily and covering sour sweat too poorly. And she remembers. </p><p>The dive bar. Nathan. Rachel’s favorite cash cow. Already drunk and suggestible. Wheedling some cash out of him. Him promising more. Following him back to his apartment. A bottle of beer. He opened it for her. She drank it. And everything went soft.</p><p>This is Nathan’s room.</p><p>“Chloe…” </p><p>She needs to get out.</p><p>“Go <em>now</em>!”</p><p>Chloe struggles. Her limbs are heavy as hell but she isn’t bound. She manages to swing a foot toward Nathan as he approaches her. Her sneaker catches on something else first, breaking the already weak momentum of her kick. A rope? A wire. The lamp goes out as its plug is yanked from the wall and it crashes into the ground.</p><p>“You fucking <em>bitch</em>! What did you <em>do</em>!?”</p><p>Chloe feels Rachel’s hand in her own, pulling her toward the door. She isn’t running so much as being dragged. And then the night air hits her lungs, and her legs start moving on their own. The clearer her mind feels, the foggier Rachel becomes. By the time she pauses to retch in one of the low bushes that make up the hedge maze that is the Blackwell campus, she’s alone.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>October 7, 2013</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Rachel is on fire, which is pretty much par for the course these days. “This is a bad idea,” Rachel advises her, as if she’s not the one on fire.</p><p>“You say that so often it’s lost all meaning.”</p><p>“Okay, but this is an especially bad idea. You barely got away from him last time.”</p><p>“So I won’t drink anything he hands me this time. Easy! Plus last time I didn’t have a gun.”</p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry; I stand corrected. This isn't a <em>bad</em> idea. It’s a <em>terrible</em> idea!”</p><p>Chloe shrugs. “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly known for my impeccable judgement. Just ask my mom.”</p><p>“Chloe, I’m worried about you.”</p><p>“Says the girl who’s been missing for half a year and is literally on <em>fire</em>.”</p><p>“Says the girl who <em>knows whereof she speaks</em>. Nathan is dangerous, Chloe.”</p><p>“He’s your friend. For some reason.”</p><p>Rachel shakes her head. “It’s going to take more than a gun to protect you, Chloe. And I can’t be the one to save you this time.”</p><p>Chloe groans and rubs her eyes. She knows that she’s asleep, but that doesn’t keep her from feeling exhausted. “You’re getting better at being cryptic, I’ll give you that.”</p><p>“I’m not doing it on purpose, Chlo. But there are limits to what I can tell you.”</p><p>“Of course there are. You’re a <em>dream</em>. You can’t tell me anything I don’t already know.”</p><p>Rachel’s eyes soften with a kind of sympathy. “Chloe. You know that isn’t--”</p><p>Chloe grabs a pillow and pulls it over her own head. She knows what’s coming. She and Rachel have had this argument more than enough times since Rachel disappeared. “Don’t say it. You know I don’t want to hear that shit.”</p><p>The mattress creaks as Rachel sits next to her. She’s on fire, but she doesn’t even feel warm. “Chloe.”</p><p>“<em>Don’t</em>.”</p><p>Rachel sighs heavily. “You’re going to have to believe me one of these days. How long is it going to take?”</p><p>“I’m going to <em>find</em> you, Rach. I swear to god.”</p><p>“Mm. I suppose you’ll have to believe me, then.”</p><p>Chloe hits her with her pillow, and it fails to catch fire, and Rachel fails to extinguish. “You’re <em>alive</em>. And I’m going to find you if it <em>kills</em> me.”</p><p>Rachel pulls her into a weightless embrace. “Chloe, sweetie. When did you start dreaming about your dad?”</p><p>“That doesn’t <em>matter</em>!”</p><p>“We miss you, but we’re not in a hurry for you to join us.” She sweeps a lock of dyed hair away from Chloe’s face. She still smells of jasmine, but there’s something else under it. Mud, and rot, and -- Chloe forcefully ignores it. “Please don’t go see Nathan. And <em>please</em> don’t play with guns.”</p><p>“Don’t tell me what to <em>do</em>!” Chloe shoves at Rachel. She passes through her like she isn’t there - which, of course, she isn’t - and wakes up on the floor of her bedroom with a fun new bruise on her hip.</p><p>Tears are wet on her face, but she ignores them. She calms the shaking of her hands and the pounding of her heart with an early morning joint. The step-fuhrer has the day shift at Blackhell today, so she might even be able to enjoy it if it weren’t for the lingering sense of unease from her dream. </p><p>And that’s all it was, of course. A dream. Rachel’s not a ghost, no matter what she says in Chloe’s dreams; Chloe’s mind is just a fucked up place to be sometimes is all. Rachel is alive, somewhere. Chloe just needs to find her. </p><p>But first she needs to shake off the shackles of this town like Rachel did so many months ago. Nathan Prescott is a twitchy motherfucker, but he’s loaded. Hell, he spent enough time with Rachel; he might even have information as well as money. Can’t hurt to try, anyway. </p><p>Chloe takes a deep drag and stares up at the water stains on her ceiling. Her eyes still sting, but she can pretend it’s from the smoke, now. </p><p>It’s been six months since Chloe last saw Rachel in person. She misses her, even though she sees her damn near every time she closes her eyes. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Originally written for the Chaos Theory Zine. Make sure to check out the other stuff in the collection and grab a copy of the zine if you can!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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